You Are Young
by Crystal Kira
Summary: Ludwig is young, and Feliciano decided it was time to make him sit down and remember that. (New in the "Insight" series.)


**A/N: I felt the need to write this, because sometimes people forget Feliciano's age and history.**

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Ludwig had been scolding him again, hung up as ever over Feliciano's blatant refusal to comply with his training regimen.

It was a hot summer day, the sound of soldiers running their drills off in the distance, but the two nations were isolated on their own private training grounds, away from the humans being forced to train in the stifling heat. Feliciano had outright refused today, it was far too hot, and Ludwig was getting more frustrated by the second.

As for the training, Feliciano didn't see the point in it, honestly. Ludwig had _seen _him run, Ludwig had _seen_ him fight, Ludwig had _seen _him fire with the precision of a sniper, Ludwig had _seen_ Feliciano pushed to the brink on the bloody screaming hell of a battlefield as he dragged bodies of his comrades to safety.

So what was the point of all this training?

Feliciano, as small as he may seem to the bulky man, _did not need his training._

What was it, that made him so insistent?

Was it Ludwig's country influencing him? That need for control, discipline, perfect soldiers weaving its way into his mind despite how much the other man detested what was happening in this twisted war of theirs? Or was it just the _man_ inside him, that bit of _humanity_, trying to assert control for the sake of keeping himself a little sane, a little stable, trying to ignore once more the chaos of the world winding around him like a tornado?

"Why is it, that whenever I ask you to do something, you're entirely _useless_?"

Either way, Feliciano was _tired_ of being scolded and treated like his worth was only his strength in a fight, and the little smile he'd been keeping up for Ludwig's sake fell.

His lips turned to a thin line, his bright eyes turned darker and more intense, eyelids lowering ever-so-slightly as he composed himself in careful, _quiet,_ cold steel.

Feliciano tilted his head just a fraction to the right, and Ludwig's breath caught in his throat.

This… Feliciano was…

"Feliciano?"

Feliciano's voice was low.

"Sit down, Ludwig."

"What?"

"I said, _sit down_."

Feliciano did not _like_ being violent. He did not _like_ war, he did not _like_ fighting and he did not _like_ this militaristic training, this idea that one had to be nothing but a weapon in order to be _useful_.

Feliciano liked Ludwig, really. He was strong, dependable, an excellent baker with an odd personality, and he loved dogs and appreciated beauty where he saw it, even if he wasn't too good with expressing himself.

But most notably, Ludwig was young.

So very, very young.

Feliciano would estimate two centuries at the oldest, given the circumstances, but he personally would give a more accurate age of a single century, maybe even less. The man's birth was shrouded in mystery and confused by wars, but Feliciano knew _Germany_ was young.

So he'd humored him, to help him along. He much preferred to be friendly, and bright, and cheerful. Feliciano preferred getting to be relaxed and laid-back, peaceful over martial. He was fine goofing off and playing, trying to get Ludwig to let loose and calm himself as well, trying to convince the stern man to relax the way he did. He wanted to try and guide him off the warpath and towards discovering better things in life than what the man seemed to be born to do: follow orders, and fight.

And it worked, sometimes, but other times, Ludwig would stand firm and Feliciano would sulk or pout in that childish way of his, but leave Ludwig to his choices. Today, however, Ludwig just pushed the wrong buttons, and was trying to push that _militaristic_ lifestyle on him again, right as this war truly was going to hell.

Oh, how Feliciano loathed war.

"Excuse me?" Ludwig looked taken aback, stunned, confused to see his usually affectionate and happy-go-lucky friend suddenly so serious.

"I said, _sit down_."

With that, Feliciano struck Ludwig quick, hard, jabbing him with harsh punches in a few precise places that suddenly made Ludwig's breath leave him as pain ran through his sides and hips and made him collapse to his knees. If Ludwig valued strength and military _usefulness_, then Feliciano would be sure to get his attention and _keep_ it with that little display.

"F-Feliciano- how dare you go against your commanding officer-"

"When did we decide that _you_ were in charge, Ludwig?" Feliciano interrupted him with even words and a stony face, and Ludwig sputtered indignantly.

"Of course I am, I-"

"Ludwig. How old are you?"

Ludwig couldn't respond, or rather, he chose not to. His expression shifted from that of shock to that of indignation. What kind of question was that? Of course he knew how old he was! Feliciano expected him to answer such a childish question!?

"Good, you think that's a silly question, don't you?" Feliciano murmured next, before bending down and placing his fingers under Ludwig's chin to make sure he was making eye contact. "Now, answer this question, _Lu-di_," Feliciano added next, drawing out the playful petname he'd given to the man. "Do you know how old _I _am?"

Ludwig's expression changed yet again, and this time, the man caught his breath and faltered, although his gaze was still hard and a bit angry. Oh, but he was starting to _get_ it now, and even that anger was starting to fade into something else hard to describe.

"I have seen two millennia go by, Ludwig," Feliciano said firmly, his voice strong but quiet, vehemence in every word. "I have seen wars and blood and battles like you couldn't even _imagine_, I have seen the rise and fall of nations and empires, and I have been_ torn to pieces_ by powers greater than me and _fought like a demon from hell_ to put myself back together, and you have the audacity to think _you_ can tell _me _to become _stronger_?"

Feliciano's expression was calm as ever, despite the venom in his words, and he pressed a boot to Ludwig's chest and firmly pushed him down to lie on the earth they'd been trying to train on just minutes before. He applied just enough pressure to keep him down, but not to hurt him. That wasn't his intent, no, not to hurt him.

Just to remind him.

"I was fighting wars and winning battles and _killing men_ before a unified Germany was even a _germ_ of an idea- and you think _you_ can give _me_ orders? I have had nearly every force imaginable try to control me and claim what I inherited from my grandfather, and when that wasn't enough, soon they tried to _kill me_ outright! But I won, I fought and slaughtered and _ripped_ my freedom from the hands of those pinning me down and I am standing here on my own two feet by the blood I shed _with my own hands_!"

Feliciano's voice was of strained calm, warning of a tidal wave threatening to rise and crash down all over again and swallow him up. His expression showed no lack of fury and frustration with the man he had pinned beneath him.

"Why _now_? Why do you get like this _now_?" Ludwig asked, gritting his teeth in frustration of his own.

"Oh, Ludi. Don't be silly, you've seen me like this plenty, when it matters most. I don't_ like_ having to be like this, don't you get it?" Feliciano said, fists clenching. "I've seen wars murder the people I love most and rip them from me, I've seen war convince _me_ to murder my own kin in cold blood- oh, you didn't know that, did you? Dispiace, I should've told you that later," he hissed softly through his teeth, fake apologies slipping off his tongue. "I _despise_ war, Ludwig. I think it's a waste of everything precious in this world. Sometimes, maybe, war is necessary, but I still _hate_ it. I don't want to live in a world where all there is to live for is to _fight_ again, to wage _another war, another battle, to create more violence just to see more of my children and loved ones perish_!"

Ludwig felt the boot on his chest pressing down a little harder than before and it was constricting his breath, so his hand shot up to wrap a vice grip over Feliciano's ankle, twisting it and pulling it off him before Feliciano inadvertently ended up suffocating him.

Feliciano had to admit that Ludwig was strong, and he should've seen Ludwig's little trick coming. But he regained a position of control, landing right on the German's stomach and pinning his wrists down, keeping his hips and main weight right on the man's stomach as a sturdy place to rest and keep Ludwig _down_ until he was quite finished.

He smiled apologetically, although this time, it seemed genuine. "Dispiace, I didn't realize I was stepping too hard," he chirped, before the smile slowly faded, and he hummed again, looking serious and contemplative as he looked Ludwig over.

Ludwig was stunned. To see a glimpse of the Feliciano he recognized, that smile, amidst that storm of power and fury lurking under Venetian waters- it had left him honestly speechless, and it took him a while to formulate a reply. "You aren't like this- so why show me this part of you now? Why bother even showing me that kind part of you in the first place, why not just show me that dark side of you from the start?!"

And Feliciano laughed a little, catching Ludwig completely off guard as the Italian rested a gentle hand on his cheek and regarded him with a bittersweet look.

"Oh, Ludi. You're so young… I guess I've been coddling you too much, si?"

There was a silence, and Ludwig let Feliciano's words sink in as the other man seemed to patiently wait for him to understand.

"Don't let them turn you into just another war machine, Ludi," Feliciano finally murmured, seeming to be settling down into the calm. "I want you to be better than that."

After all, he _liked_ Ludwig.

Ludwig let go of Feliciano's ankle, suddenly realizing that he was still gripping it, realizing that it was swelling in his hand- he'd actually twisted the limb, but Feliciano didn't seem to care. It'd heal in a day or so, anyway- and Ludwig felt it click. Feliciano must have felt such worse pain, suffered through healing from much worse wounds and losses in that long, long life.

Italia Veneziano was so terribly old.

How could he have overlooked that simple fact? To think he had considered Feliciano an honest simpleton… Someone he could just order around like a child! Ludwig gritted his teeth again, feeling a futile sort of anger simmering inside him. He'd made yet another miscalculation- the one he'd considered a best friend had gotten the best of him, after all.

He'd never been in control from day one.

As it dawned, the understanding showed on Ludwig's face.

And Feliciano smiled.


End file.
